Butterfly Culture
by erynnasfics
Summary: "She's got you high and you don't even know yet / the sun's in the sky, it's warming up your bare legs / and you can't deny, you're looking for a sunset." War is stirring outside the walls of Hogwarts, drawing closer every second and threatening to overwhelm - but until that point there are dusks and sundresses, pillow fights and laughter, and young innocent life to live.
1. From Now On

_9:17 am_

It's 9:17am and I've cursed how early the train leaves fifty times since I woke up. At 9:15am.

By the sound of things the rest of my family are too - from my position, sitting on my bed with the duvet cocooned around me, I can hear my dad upstairs in the attic trying to find my trunk - scratch that, I can hear my trunk thumping down the stairs and my dad swearing loudly. Typical. I get up, the duvet still wrapped around me under my arms, and shuffle over to the door.

"Dad?" I call tentatively, shouldering my door open. "You okay?" This is followed by a loud stomping and the sound of low muttering coming from somewhere to my left. I look down the hall to the door at the end, still slightly ajar with the corner of my truck sticking out of it from where it had fallen down the attic stairs. "Dad?" My father eventually makes himself known, tripping over my trunk and catching himself on the hall door, foot wedged between the trunk and the wall.

"Yes? Hmm?" He look around, confused, and I stick my head out of my door a little further.

"I heard crashing." I say, rolling my eyes and grinning slightly at his predicament.

"Well that would be this bloody trunk, I don't know _what_ you keep in here." He grumbles, dislodging his foot and pushing his glasses back up his nose where they've slipped down. You'd never guess where my clumsiness comes from.

"Bricks, by the sound of things." That's my mother, bustling past with a pile of robes and shirts slung over her arm, her dark hair piled on top of her head and an apron tied around her slim waist. "Harold, what on _earth_ are you doing? You've woken up the whole neighborhood." She says, thrusting the pile of clothes into my face. "Lily? Earth to Lily?" She catches my attention, holding out the robes impatiently. "You're going to have to wake up at some point, Lily dear." She says, and I finally drop my duvet, taking the clothes and withdrawing back into my room. My mother scolds Dad about the trunk loudly and a few moments later he knocks on my door, pushing it open slightly. "Lils? I've got your trunk, your Mum says you've got to pack your clothes." I glance at the clock that's wonkily placed on my mantelpiece and groan - 9:21am. I'm pretty sure in the past five years that I've been catching the train, we should have learnt that leaving at ten just isn't going to cut it - but still, every year here we are, with half an hour until we need to leave and my robes still not packed.

I guess it's my fault though.

Partly.

I open the door, kicking my duvet to the side, and drag my trunk in with both hands tugging on the worn handle. I finally manage to get it through the door and flip the lid up, looking at the piles of books in it critically. Stuffing's probably the best technique with only... 34 minutes left until we need to leave the house. I shove all of my robes and school clothes into the case, glancing around my room for anything I've missed. I catch my reflection in the mirror and gape, jumping over the still open case. "Merlin..." I mutter, poking at the bags under my eyes - as if that's going to help. I settle for pulling my mercifully untangled shock of red hair back into a high ponytail and throw open my wardrobe, searching through for some vaguely acceptable clothes. I pull out my well-worn jeans and a turtleneck jumper, throwing them onto my bed and looking around the rest of the room. Lucky I live with a neat freak for a mother, or I'd never find anything. I sort through a pile of books on my desk, throwing the odd couple into my trunk, and a spare quill's just uncovered itself when a door slams somewhere in the house. Loudly. My head snaps up and I freeze, before slowly creeping to my door and opening it slightly. As I suspected; my sweet, sweet sister has thrown open her bedroom door and it standing in the frame, looking like murder. Murder with blow-dried brunette hair and pink lip-gloss on. "WHO is making all that UNGODLY racket?" She screeches, and heads for the stairs.

"Petunia dear, check if your sister's ready will you?" My mother calls up. Merlin's saggy left ball, where am I going to - "Oh, hello Petunia." I say sweetly as she pushes open the door, throwing the quill into my case and flipping the lid shut with my foot.

"Mum asks if you're ready." Petunia snaps, keeping her sharp gaze trained deliberately away from the trunk on the floor, and the wand conveniently jutting off of a bookshelf about 5 inches from her face.

I look left to the floor length mirror next to my desk, and raise my eyebrows. "Yes, you know I _was_ planning on boarding the train to school in pink pajamas." I say, mocking thoughtfulness.

"_My _pink pajamas." Petunia replies, flipping her hair and flouncing out of my room, leaving a cloying smell of vanilla behind. "MUM, LILY'S NOT EVEN OUT OF HER PAJAMAS." Petunia calls down, and slams her bedroom door behind her. I wince as I hear my mother's reaction and stare at Petunia's door venomously - ever the sweet, considerate sibling. I sit on my case and wrestle the fastenings closed, struggling to stand up and close my door so I can change. I cross my room to close the curtains and pick up the stack of letters on my mantelpiece, sorting through them and smiling slightly. The long, looping handwriting of my best friend, Marlene McKinnon, is on the top envelope and I slide the parchment out of it to read through her note once more.

**Meet me by the barrier at 10:55 - NO LATER. I missed you on the platform last year and spent the whole journey crushed between the wall of the train and Damocles Belby, so I will be laying ALL BLAME on you if he corners me again this year. **

**Love, Marlene **

I roll my eyes as I read through the message - it had only arrived the day before, by way of her tawny, Orion. The story of her experience with the seventh year Hufflepuff has been well told, and I slip the parchment back into its envelope with a fond grin, dropping the pile of letters from my friends on my pillow. I throw my nightdress onto the bed and begin to wrestle my jeans on, hopping over to my desk to pick up my lip-gloss. I finally manage to do up my jeans and pull my jumper over my head, slipping my watch into my pocket and tightening my ponytail, rushing down the top part of our staircase.

"LILY EVANS IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN THESE STAIRS RIGHT - Oh, there you are dear. Breakfast's on the table." My mother calls after me as I dodge around her on the landing that splits our stairs in half, and jump the last couple of steps onto the large flagstones of our kitchen.

My father is sitting at the large wooden kitchen table, glasses perched on the end of his nose and leafing through a newspaper, worn slippers on his feet and a piece of forgotten toast in his left hand. He jumps as I approach, putting down the newspaper hurriedly, but relaxes quickly, sinking back into the chair.

"Oh, it's only you Lils."

Thanks.

"I thought you were your mother for a second, gave me a scare..." He trails off, and then waves his hand over to the counter. "Toast and marmalade, no time for anything else according to Cynthia." That makes more sense. I hurry over to the counter and pick up a piece of toast, taking a few quick bites and glancing at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece - 9:31am.

"LILY!"

Merlin, what's wrong now? I give my father a look but he only shrugs helplessly in response, leaving me to swing round the wooden banister and back up the stairs, wiping my hands on my jeans. "Mum?" I call, wondering where she is. The answering 'in here, dear,' comes from my bedroom, and I frown slightly as I push the door open. My mother is bent double over my trunk in the middle of the room, trying to wrestle it on to its side so that she can move it downstairs. "Have you packed everything?" She pants. "Robes? Books? Clothes?" I nod along as she lists everything I need, stepping around her to get to my bed as she finally manages to tip up my trunk. I scoop up the pile of letters on my pillow and put them in my desk drawer, sliding it closed. "Normal clothes got packed last week and my robes went in this morning." I reply, reaching over to take my wand off of the bookshelf and tuck it into my jeans. "Have you seen Caspar?"

At that moment a disgusted looking Petunia barges into my room, deposits a tabby cat into my arms and wipes her hands furiously on her patterned dress. "I've told you, if you don't keep that _repugnant _fleabag out of my bedroom I'll throw it out of the window." She spits, fixing me with a beady glare and stalking out of the room, leaving me to calm down a writhing Caspar and my mother to heave the case over to my door. I hear Petunia talking to someone through the open doorways and crane my neck to listen.

"I'm back, Vernon dear, it's just my freakish sister and that school of hers -" She's cut off as she shuts her bedroom door, and Caspar jumps to the floor. He streaks through my mother's legs and down the stairs, presumably to my father.

"Your sister does get awfully worked up about things, doesn't she?" My mother muses, shifting the case out of the door. "Your dad's put your cauldron and Caspar's carry basket in the car already, now we just have to get this great hulking thing down the stairs and – "HAROLD, WHY IS THE CAULDRON IN THE KITCHEN?" Mum shrieks, leaving me to deal with the case. My hand itches to take out my wand and levitate it down the stairs, but that's a no-go area, until January at least.

I know my parents are fascinated by magic and my 'gift', but sometimes I wish that my mother wouldn't say 'cauldron' and 'wand' with such reverence - even if she is yelling at my father in the process. It's a bit alienating, to say the least. I wince as my sister laughs down the phone; at least I don't have to worry about reverence with her. _"Just my freakish sister and that school of hers..." _I shake my head to clear my thoughts and heave my trunk down the five or six stairs to the mini landing, stopping for a break before pushing it down the last few, thumping it on every stair between the landing and the kitchen floor. The chair at the end of the kitchen table's empty now, and I can see my parents in the driveway through the slightly open kitchen window. I call to them that I have my case ready and pick up another piece of toast, holding it in my mouth as I walk over to the door.

"Right Lil, everything ready?" Dad asks, ducking through the door and looking at me appraisingly. I nod in return and finish my second slice of toast, wiping my hands on a tea towel on the counter next to me and checking that my wand's safe in my pocket. "Yep, I'm all done." I reply, frowning slightly as I try to remember if I've left anything behind. I hold up one finger and dart away through the door next to the stairs. "One second!" I call, and hear the answering chuckle as I hurry through the white carpeted sitting room to my dad's study. I pass the cracked red leather chair and the old wooden bookshelf to his desk, opening the drawer and taking out some of the larger leather-bound tomes to uncover a tarnished brass pocket watch at the bottom of the drawer. It's long since stopped working, but it has my father's initials on it from when he was at school and I've taken it to Hogwarts since First year. I close the drawer and glance up as the cuckoo clock on the wall starts calling 9:45, the bright birds popping out of the door and contrasting with the faded green wallpaper. I dart out of the door and back through to the kitchen where my mother's standing waiting, arms outstretched.

"Your father's waiting in the car." She says, smiling fondly, and pulls my in for a hug. I rest my chin on her shoulder and link my arms around her middle, taking a last look around the exposed beams and white cabinets of the kitchen. "Caspar's in the car, and your dad's got the trunk in." She says quietly, kissing the side of my head and squeezing me before letting go. "Have a good time, darling. I'll see you at Christmas." She says, giving me a watery smile. I try my best to smile in return – I always hate leaving her, it's the worst part of boarding school. Well, almost the worst thing. I push the thoughts of Potter's letter out of my head and wave as I walk out of the door, jogging to the small car and pulling the slightly rusted door open. I slide one foot in and pause, following the purple creeper up the side of the house with my eyes to Petunia's bedroom window. It's empty, as always.

"Lil? You're going to have to get in at some point, love." Dad says gently, turning on the engine. I shake my head clear – it's stopped bothering me that Petunia never says goodbye. It has. I duck into the car and lean back, looking at the clock on the dashboard – 9:52.

_Thanks for taking the time to read - Please review and favourite, this is the first fanfic I've written and I plan to make it a long 'un. (:_


	2. Riptide

_Cause I've got friends_

_I've got family here_

_They say these kids are diseased_

_But we've got love to share._

_10:42_

I jump out of the car and walk around to the boot, nodding to my dad when he tells me that he's going to get a trolley. People bustle around me and I allow myself a grin for the first time that day, looking down at the ground – I'm going back to Hogwarts. Finally. Leaning my back against the side of the car, and pulling the sleeves of my jumper down, I wait for Dad to come back and look around at the people around me, the grin still faintly evident. I see him weaving through the crowds of people with a large trolley, frowning in concentration and avoiding the sea of screaming children and stressed adults. My case is sitting at the very front of the boot of the car, and I pull it out, banging the corner on the ground and letting it down gently.

"Anyone around you recognise?" Dad asks, pulling the trunk onto the lower part of the trolley and picking up Caspar's basket gingerly, hearing a hiss from inside. I shake my head, glancing around once more to check and reaching in to pull out my cauldron. It's placed on the trolley with the rest of my stuff and pushed across the car park by my father, leaving me to shut the boot of the car and jog after him, trying not to get us separated.

We finally reach the platform and begin to battle over to the barrier, muggle trains lining the platforms with harried looking businessmen jumping on and off, and wardens strolling along the platform blowing whistles and slamming doors. I take over from Dad, pushing the trolley towards platform ten and assuming a neutral expression, looking around disinterestedly. I lean against the brick barrier, my heart picking up speed, and slip through quickly, pulling my trolley after me. Dad'll follow in a second – he's always squeamish about the barrier, worried someone will see.

I emerge on the other side of the platform, the grin back in full force – I'm finally back. I've been getting letters from Alice, Marlene and Emmeline all summer, but letters don't quite add up so the real thing. All of them live north of London, as opposed to my house in the South Downs, so visiting each other's made kind of hard – we've met up in London a couple of times, but to be honest it's the castle I've really missed.

I look around the platform, moving quickly away from the barrier as more families and then my stressed father make their way through. Younger siblings of students at the school are screaming and laughing, clinging onto their parents' legs or playing tag, weaving through the crowds. I see one boy, about 8 years old, finding his way onto the huge scarlet train at the platform belching steam into the air. He's pulled out by his mother, who scolds him in a low voice as a group of Ravenclaw third years laugh at his predicament. Students of all ages from the school jump on and off of the train, calling to their parents, a cacophony of voices chastising, shouting, and laughing to each other. My father taps me on the shoulder and I turn, trying to make out where he's standing in the heaving mass of people between us. He comes into my direct line of view a couple of seconds later, red in the face and harried looking. "Lils, I'm gonna have to get out of here before the train leaves or it's going to be mad in here." He apologizes, stepping sideways as a third year Hufflepuff slams into him and runs straight back off again towards the train, chasing her friend. I nod and abandon my trolley for a second, throwing my arms around him, but this time there's no chance of a serene goodbye, and I have to let go before my trolley's pushed over.  
"I'll write to you!" I call, and see his wave as the crowd swallows him up, leaving me alone. The watch on my left wrist shows 10:53, indicating that Marlene should be here in a second. I lean my back against the side of the barrier, making sure that I'm not on the side that I'd fall through, and go up on my tiptoes to try to make out her light blonde hair in the crowd. A dead weight crashes into my side, knocking the wind out of me, and Marlene makes herself known, hugging me tightly.

"You are cutting it _very _finely, Lily Evans." She says, hitting me around the head with a sheaf of parchment that I can only assume is her Hogwarts letter. "Belby's been eyeing me since twenty to." I laugh and shake my head.

"Okay, I doubt he's been _eyeing_ you." I reply – Marlene's convinced half the male population are in love with her, and won't hear a word against it. I mean _okay_, I have looked up a few times in potions when Damocles Belby's been eyeing her, but only once or twice. Maybe. "How was your summer?" I venture, attempting to get her off the subject of her male admirers.

"_Well_, you know I was telling you about going to the South of France? Lily, the _boys _there…" She implores, pulling her trolley closer and speaking at a mile a minute. I nod along vaguely, starting to push my own trolley towards the loading car.

Marlene McKinnon's been my best friend since second year, when she calmed down a little and stopped glaring at everyone who tried to talk to her. She still does that sometimes, but to be honest that's just how Marlene is – she can barely stand anyone who isn't Gryffindor, and even then you're lucky if she talks to you. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.

"So _then _Mum said that we could go back next year, because it was all resting on my OWL results." She finishes. I perk up a little at the mention of her exam results, and then feel guilty for not listening. I lean my hip against my trolley, reaching to the side and picking up Caspar's carry basket. "So what did you get?" I ask. She looks at me oddly. "Were you even listening then?" She asks, and I nod enthusiastically. "Yeah, South of France and going back next year." I say, poking my fingers through the metal grid door of the basket. Marlene shrugs and pulls her long blonde hair over one shoulder. "All E's apart from an O in charms." She says proudly, and I'm not surprised – Marlene's always been a genius at Charms. "Oh, and an Acceptable in Care of Magical Creatures, but who cares about that?" She shoves the stack of parchment into her jacket pocket and nods her thanks to the wizard who takes her case off the trolley and pushes it to the side. The same wizard takes mine off and puts my cauldron in the storage car of the train, and I take out my wand to levitate my trunk through the doors of the train. The crowd's beginning to clear a little at this point, and I glance up to the numeral clock above me. 10:59 is shown, and I drop my trunk into the corridor.

Immediately all hell breaks loose – a thousand magical students on a train, what do you expect? A fanged Frisbee shoots past and I duck, hearing a shriek behind me. "I'LL TAKE THAT OFF YOU." I hear, and turn around to the furious form of Emmeline Vance, obviously just done with disentangling the Frisbee from her dark, wavy hair. "Merlin's wand, why do people even use them?" She mutters, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug and beaming as students push past us on all sides.

Emmeline's a lot mellower than Marlene, although you wouldn't guess it from that. She has a hot temper, whereas Marlene's sort of… Permanently hostile, I guess you'd say. 99% percent of the time if you speak to Emmeline she's the sweetest person you'll ever meet, which is why it's so terrifying when she flies into a rage. With Marlene it's common procedure.

I extricate myself from the hug and laugh, keeping one hand on Caspar's basket. Doors start slamming all up and down the train, and I start to search for an empty compartment near me, but all of them seem to be full to bursting. Emmeline rolls her eyes fondly and smiles, calmer now that the hysteric first years have ducked into their compartment.

"Alice and I've got one down the other end." She says, pulling me by the arm and leading me through a group of fourth year Slytherins trying to get through a locked door.

"Not gonna work, idiots. That one's for the prefects." Marlene reminds them, and one hits another on the back of the head. "I _told_ you. Didn't I tell you it was? Saw Narcissa walking in there a minute ago…" I hear their voices fade as Emmeline locates the compartment, sliding the door open just as the train lurches forwards and begins to move, steam billowing past the windows in fluffy clouds.

Alice Prewett is in the corner of the compartment; a Gryffindor scarf wound loosely around her neck and a thick book in her lap, her feet up on the bench seat. She looks up as Emma sits down next to her and pushes her feet off the seat, beaming at me and closing her book. "You're here!" She greets me, shoving Emma lightly with her foot in return. "Beginning to think you weren't coming." She smiles, and I make a face in return, before laughing.

"I'm not /that/ bad, Alice."

"If you say so. Want any help with your trunk?" She asks, slipping her book into the brown satchel next to her feet.

"I'm good, thanks. Could you let Caspar out though?" I reply, frowning in concentration as I levitate my case onto the luggage rack. "Careful, he's stressed out from the car ride." I add, sitting down opposite Alice with Marlene on my right. Alice unlatches the basket and my small tabby cat shoots out, winding his way around Marlene's legs – she's his favourite, for some reason. I cross my legs and lean back, watching the grime of London fly past. "Hear anything about the OWL results over summer?" I address the whole compartment, but it's Alice who answers – Emma's already engrossed in a copy of the _Quibbler_, a fat packet of pepper imps next to her, and Marlene's stroking Caspar absently.

"Yeah, loads actually." She answers. "Frank told me that Ravenclaw got the best in the school overall." No surprise there. She scratches her button nose thoughtfully. "Slytherin came a close second, though." – It's bloody annoying, but again not surprising.

"You know only about ten people are carrying on Ancient Runes?" Emma comments, flipping a page idly.  
"I didn't even know that many people did the OWL." Marlene frowns. Emma flicks an imp at her without looking, frowning at the colourful article on the page she's reading. "Come on, it's not exactly the most interesting thing." Marlene insists.

I smile, rolling my eyes as a heated discussion begins next to me on the merits of ancient runes versus Defense against the Dark Arts, and pick up the copy of the _Daily Prophet _that rests on the seat between Marlene and I, unfolding it and shaking it out.

A massive headline is emblazoned in black above a moving picture of a young, grimy wizard with dank blonde hair – EX-STUDENT CONVICTED BY WIZENGAMOT. I look more closely at the picture – the wizard can't be older than twenty, must've been at Hogwarts while I've been here. There are over a thousand students at the school though, so I put not recognising him to the fact that there are too many faces to remember. His eyes are disturbingly angry as he yells at the camera, and I switch my gaze to the short article teaser underneath.

_"Twenty-three year old Evan Samuels _(well, everyone's wrong sometimes)_ was seen at the grand court of the Wizengamot today, after spending a week in a holding cell in the Ministry of Magic on suspicion of placing the Unforgivable Imperius Curse on several members of the community. He was apprehended on August 25__th__, after attempting to curse a ministry official._

_ Read more on page 4 -"_

I frown and a shiver shoots down my spine as I finish the article teaser, deciding against turning to page four. Things are getting worse outside the castle every day, despite the ministry's efforts. Caspar jumps onto my lap and I stroke him absently, staring out of the window with my eyebrows furrowed, watching the suburbs fly past. That is, until a sharp jab jerks me out of my daydream and a pepper imp hits me in the forehead.

"You're going to end up throwing more of those than you eat." Alice comments mildly, as I rub my arm and glare at Marlene.

"We've been shouting your name for at least thirty seconds, dreamer." Marlene says accusingly. "And stop rubbing your arm, it wasn't _that_ hard."

"It was too!" I argue, but lower my hand anyway. I decide not to mention the article, folding up the paper and slipping it down the side of the seat – we've only just got back.

"So, apart from Marlene and her mystery French lovers, where did everyone else go during summer?" I ask, and dodge another poke from Marlene; I laugh as Emmeline screws her face up at the taste of the pepper imps and Alice hits her on the leg with her book when she refuses to give her one. This is what we're meant to be doing – laughing and arguing and discussing stupid end of year exams, without the dark cloud of war hanging over our heads.

A loud wolf whistle is heard from outside the compartment, and we all look up at the same time. Alice stops fighting with a giggling Emmeline and freezes, and Marlene looks up to the door with a venomous glare. "Black, what the hell are you doing here?"

The tall, lean figure of one Sirius Black can be seen outside the door, grinning at us through the glass and putting his hand out to rest on the handle.

"On the train, Marley?" He asks, after sliding the door open and sloping in. "Well, you see, I _do_ go to this school."

"All the worse for us." Marlene mutters, and I can't blame her for saying it. Black's possibly the most arrogant person I've ever met, next to James Potter. And they're best friends. It's like the worst double act you could get – a disgusting amount of arrogance mixed with a thought that they can do anything and get away with anything makes for possibly the two most detestable people I've ever met.

"No, _here,_ Black. In our compartment." I take over from Marlene, turning in my seat to face him.

"Lilykins!" He exclaims, and I put my hand on my wand warningly as he steps closer to me – how am I to know that he won't slip a Filibuster down the back of my seat or drop a dungbomb into the basket still open on the floor next to me? He puts his hands up and pauses, smirking.

"Fine, fine." He says genially. "James wants a word with you, Evans." He says, slouching slightly against the wall and putting his hands in his pockets, flicking his long dark hair out of his eyes.

"My, the ringleader himself?" I say, leaning back in my seat. "How come he's sent a flying monkey to bring me to him then?" A shadow of a smile passes over Emmeline's face and Marlene folds her arms, looking up at him.

"Oh no Evans, I came here voluntarily. I just _had _to look upon the beauty of Miss McKinnon here before term starts and she transforms into the banshee she really is." He smiles sweetly and turns to leave the compartment. "Coming?"

You can almost see the smoke billowing of Marlene's nostrils, and I swear I see her eyes flicker red. "Fine." I snap, pushing Caspar gently off of my lap and standing up.

"Good luck." I hear Alice say as I leave the room, and I glance back to her. "You too." I grin wryly, tilting my head towards Marlene and sliding the door closed.

"Well, this is cosy." Black comments in a low voice as I turn and am faced by an expanse of grey-clothed torso. "Out of the way, Black." I say irritably, and step around him. See, this is what I talked about when I mentioned Potter and Black being the worst thing about coming back. I follow him down the long corridor of the train with my arms crossed against my chest, rolling my eyes when he stops for a few moments so a Hufflepuff fifth year with short blonde hair and a short skirt can simper over him. "Walking here." I say loudly, and she shoots me a look and flounces back into her cabin, reminding me horribly of a blonde Petunia.

"You're certainly wound tight today, Evans." Black comments, slowing down his pace as we reach the compartment.

"Your fault." I retort, and immediately regret the childish reply. With my friends it would be normal, but with Black it always seems like a competition to find the wittiest comeback. He sniggers and slides open the door, and I'm met by a massive bellowing yell and shouts of "FOR GOD'S SAKE SHUT UP, JAMES." I wince and step in, taking in my surroundings. James Potter is spread over an entire bench seat, his head resting on his folded school jumper and his legs stretched out along the bench. A brown bag is on the floor with sweets and what look like large, pink, immobile beetles spilling out of it, and there's sweet wrappers littering the floor already.

Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew are sitting on the other bench – polar opposites, really. Lupin has dark-ish hair that flops over his forehead and a thin body, with bags under his eyes and a long scar down his neck that to my knowledge he never talks about. He's not unattractive exactly, just sort of… Underfed.

On the other hand, Peter Pettigrew is a little overweight with a thatch of light blonde hair and a pink-tinged face. He has small features, giving him the look of a rat or some other rodent – I'd never say it to him, of course. It's just one of those things you can't avoid thinking when you look at someone. He's sweet though, I suppose.

"Lupin, Pettigrew." I greet, nodding to them.

"Hey, Lily." Lupin replies, grinning at me and shooting James a look.

James Potter is a completely different story. He has stupidly messy black hair and a royal air, although he doesn't deserve one. He's somehow managed to get hold of a remembrall and is throwing it up and catching it repeatedly, one handed. I feel like making him drop it just to watch it wipe the smirk off of his face.

"Evans." He greets, seemingly relaxed, although the bellow I heard when I came through the door says differently.

"Potter." I return stiffly. Usually I would try to at least be civil, but there's really no point. I'll lose my temper in about thirty seconds anyway, so why bother. "Black said you wanted to talk to me for some reason?" _Can't imagine why._

"What? Oh, yeah. How was your summer, Evans?"

Black snorts and moves from his position leant against the wall to the space between James's feet and the arm of the seat. "Smooth, mate." He mutters. Do I actually agree with Sirius Black? Surely not.

I gape at Potter, shaking my head as Black shoves him. "Move, fat-arse." He says, and James retaliates but putting his foot as close as possible to Sirius's face without actually touching it. Thank god, it buys me time to think something to say. I look to Lupin for help but he shrugs helplessly, stifling a laugh as he watches the other two.

"Potter, if you don't want to talk to me about anything, I'm going back to my friends." I say, turning to leave.

"Evans, wait!" I hear. I spin back around slowly, one hand on the frame of the door, and I'm met with an interesting sight – James with his square framed glasses askew and hair messier than ever, his hand pressed into Black's face to keep him away and his foot jammed against Sirius's knee. "Wait. I just wanted to know if you got my letter."

I sense Lupin perking up next to me, and even Black stops fighting to look at him incredulously. "You sent her a letter? Thought you gave up with that. It was a good move if you ask me, mate." Potter throws him a lazily irritated look and lets go of Black's face to punch him in the arm.

"Shut it, Black." I say, folding my arms. He's talking about the daily love notes Potter plagued me with from second to fifth year, even after I repeatedly said no. It got old very, very quickly. "It was just a stupid note asking if I'd taken your supply of dung bombs home by accident."

"That's where they went!" He shouts, sitting upright. I shoot him a look – Merlin, how often does he think I mix my luggage with James Potter's?

"I hadn't." I finish. "He's got them." I jerk my head towards Potter, who gives Black a sheepish grin and holds his hands up. "They were in the bottom of my trunk, who looks there?" He defends, and I turn around firmly so that I can walk back to the right carriage. "Bye, Evans!" I hear from Potter as the door closes, and a stage whispered 'It's Lilykins' from Sirius. I resist the urge to slap them both and walk back down to the compartment, counting slowly to ten in my head and making a decision there and then avoid them as much as possible from now on. Good plan, Lily.

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_Okay, this one was slightly longer but I hope it's worth the read :) I should have another chapter up by thursday or friday, so I hope people keep reading. Thank you for the views so far, any feedback? _


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